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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532518">Fulfillment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hampop/pseuds/hampop'>hampop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dishonored (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Reader Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hampop/pseuds/hampop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You look like you’re not having fun,” you say softly, craning your head to get a better glimpse of his expression. Pale eyes fix upon you. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, then.” He adjusts himself so that he’s not sitting so stiffly. “This isn’t really my idea of ‘fun’.” The room spins less when you’re seated and you’re relieved that you can clearly study his face now. Maybe it was the allure of his intellect or perhaps it was the smell of his tobacco. But you needed to feel his hands on you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kirin Jindosh/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fulfillment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Someone requested throne sex forever ago on tumblr and I finally got around to it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kirin made it a point not to drink at the grand palace.<br/>
Luca was an alcoholic and had been since he was a young man, as attested by Stilton. There was never an instant where a glass of brandy wasn’t within the Duke’s reach. Perhaps he drank so much and so frequently to display his wealth—none of the rums and whiskeys he drank were cheap by any means. He kept the mansion stocked well, each room sporting six to eight bottles. In fact, Kirin thought with mild annoyance, Luca’s monthly alcohol budget could probably have funded at least three clockworks.<br/>
Digression aside, despite his personal code, Kirin occasionally gave in to the itch and poured himself a glass or two when the parties got particularly boisterous.  <i>Kirin’s </i> idea of a get together involved less alcohol—some, just less—and far fewer people to keep the discussion topics tightly organized and refined. Luca spends these nights fucking and whoring and, occasionally, hosting. Jindosh made his appearances at these sorts of gatherings brief but evident. After all, Luca had given him a daunting title and was currently—slowly—funding the clockwork project. If Kirin was anything at all, he was a man of principle. Moral principle? No. But of a sort.<br/>
He understood the way the game worked, if anything. He shows up, he throws around a few sentences with some big words, and the Duke leads the applause. Kirin was a part of the festivities but in the sense that he was a part of the entertainment. A novelty item for Luca to show off. And most nights, this wasn’t as demeaning as it was now.<br/>
<i>You </i> are a part of the ‘company’ that the Duke invited. The heir to a noble household in Morley. This was some last ditch effort to avoid arranged marriage—if only for a few more weeks. To fulfill a lifelong dream of travelling, you packed your bags and sailed to the jewel of the south—Serkonos.<br/>
And somewhere along the way, you had found yourself in the Duke’s company. His  <i>private </i> company. How this came to be is a drunken mystery. But none the less, you had been enjoying yourself. The interesting guests the Duke brought into his home were fascinating—you’d met some of the highest ranking officials in Serkonos from the esteemed Breanna Ashworth to, most recently, the Grand Inventor himself.<br/>
What a funny little man Kirin Jindosh turned out to be. He obviously didn’t want to be here tonight; he had originally holed himself up in one of the duke’s smoking rooms, hiding from the lot of you for as long as he could. When he was inevitably chased out by a Tyvian marquis and a Gristol countess, you spotted him refilling his glass of brandy by one of the billiard tables. As you were trying to escape your conversation with a young Serkonan heiress, you lost sight of him.<br/>
It is like a game of hide and seek. You search the kitchen and the balconies and the garden for the Grand Inventory, unsure of what you wanted from him exactly. A conversation likely wouldn’t last long between the two of you. You simply want a chance to capture his attention longer than these other guests—a challenge.<br/>
You’re making your way back from the garden, about ready to give up the chase, when you a blurry, distorted form through the glass of the throne room. Triumphant, you can hardly give yourself the time to think before you drunkenly reach for the curved door handle. ‘I’ve got you!’ you think, slipping into the well lit room with less grace than you would have liked. Regardless, he doesn’t seem to notice you just yet. He’s staring at the throne, his glass of brandy perfectly still in his steady hands. You can’t see his face, but the set of his jaw indicates tension, perhaps deep thought. As the door clicks shut behind you, he seems to finally snap out of it, turning to face you with mild agitation.<br/>
“Found you,” you say, a wry smile curling on your flushed face. “You’re faster than you look.”<br/>
He rolls his eyes in disgust and turns back to the throne. “I wasn’t aware I was being sought after. I would have hidden better.”<br/>
Despite the irritation in his voice and obvious desire to be left alone, you approach him and come to stand beside him as he looks upon the large, daunting chair. “I think you picked a perfect place to hide. It’s nice and quiet in here.”<br/>
“It  <i>was </i>.” He mutters, bringing his glass up to down the rest of the brandy. You watch him, eyeing the curve of his throat.<br/>
“Why do you come to these things if you don’t want to?” you ask him, genuinely curious. You cross your hands behind your back and lean in inquisitively to encourage him. He squints at you and takes a small step back to reinstate the distance you had just crossed.<br/>
“Are you insinuating I should leave if I’m not having fun?” There’s a smirk trying to pull at the corner of his mouth. Despite himself, he finds amusement here. Outsider’s breath, he’d do anything for a clean escape.<br/>
“No,” you say, looking up at the golden chandelier and its thousands of crystal shards. “That would upset the Duke. We all stay until he says we’re allowed to leave.”<br/>
Kirin shakes his head, glowering down at the bottom of his glass. He can feel it rising inside of him—that righteous anger that he typically reserves for memoirs. The fact that you’re  <i>right </i> and that he  <i>isn’t </i> allowed to leave despite his clear superiority over every individual here. The fact that you’re some common noble without a name and he’s the Grand fucking Inventor yet you’re both equally trapped under the Duke’s thumb—it infuriates him.<br/>
You take note of the clear atmospheric shift in the mood and quickly attempt to remedy it. Thoughtlessly, you half-skip over to the throne and plop yourself down onto the comfy red cushion. As you settle in, you vaguely comprehend the gravity of this offense should the Grand Inventor decide to tattle. Still, you’re giddy due to the combined efforts of the wine and Jindosh’s face. Such a handsome face.<br/>
He is briefly surprised. Luca had once killed a servant for sitting on the throne while cleaning it. It was humorous to consider the type of punishment you would receive should the Duke discover you. He allows himself to smirk.<br/>
“It’s pretty comfortable,” you remark, shimmying your shoulders into the plush upholstery. “Though the Duke has put a sizable dent in it.”<br/>
“Ha,” Kirin shifts from his right foot to his left, growing more relaxed now that you’ve lightened the mood. “You’d better get up from there before some countess catches you and gossips to the Duke. Or worse, before I go and tell him myself.”<br/>
“My my,” you grin, kicking your feet up onto one of the arm rests. He physically stiffens. “You don’t seem like the type. But I suppose you can never tell about some people.”<br/>
His shoulders relax a bit. He glances briefly over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear. Then, with careful intent, he walks closer to the throne. The crown of your head touches the back of the seat as you crane to look up at him.<br/>
“Do you want to take turns?” you laugh, moving your feet to create enough space for his slender form. “There’s room for two, if you’re curious about how it feels.”<br/>
If you weren’t drunk, perhaps you would have noticed the sexual undertones of your statement. Alas, you hardly notice or care. He would not be the ugliest noble you had slept with this month—and he certainly had an advantage over your husband-to-be.<br/>
Jindosh sighs and looks to the ceiling for a moment in consideration. Then, at last, he conceded and shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the throne. His weight caused the plush cushion to shift and you were unintentionally brought closer to him. You watch his face as he takes it all in—the feel of the seat, the view of the room, the fantasy of power.<br/>
And truly, for a moment, Kirin thinks to himself “this is how it should be, this is how it could be.” Then, anger at the injustice beckons him again.<br/>
“You look like you’re not having fun,” you say softly, craning your head to get a better glimpse of his expression. Pale eyes fix upon you.<br/>
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, then.” He adjusts himself so that he’s not sitting so stiffly. “This isn’t really my idea of ‘fun’.”<br/>
The room spins less when you’re seated and you’re relieved that you can clearly study his face now. Maybe it was the allure of his intellect or perhaps it was the smell of his tobacco. But you needed to feel his hands on you.<br/>
With great self-preservation, you manage to keep your hands to yourself for a moment longer. This was the sort of man that would require a bit of tact; throwing yourself directly at him would result in failure.<br/>
“Well, I know the Duke’s idea of fun. Mostly it’s just the same idea—sex—disguised by different locations. Every place we’ve gone to these past weeks has resulted in sex. Theatre? Sex. Restaurants? Sex. Even the museums. I figured there’d be a change of pace eventually, but I’ve been disappointed.”<br/>
“. . . disappointed by the monotony or the sex?”<br/>
Delighted by his approach, you let out a short laugh. “Both, I should say.”<br/>
He’s got an eyebrow raised. Truly, he was a little invested in the conversation. This wasn’t the first talk of the evening that lead to mentions of sex, and typically he would leave the discussion altogether once it was brought up. But he liked you for whatever reason and—alas—he was quite comfortable where he was sitting.<br/>
“I’ve always heard that the Duke is rather skilled in his physical hobby. He certainly practices enough.”<br/>
“Oh,” you wave a hand in the air, “I wouldn’t know. Haven’t had sex with him personally. Just a few of his court members over the week. Here and there. I would rather die, I think.”<br/>
“Perfectly understandable,” he muses, bringing his ceramic appendage to his lips and, to your delight, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “And none of his personal court have satisfied you either? Such a shame.”<br/>
“A waste of my time,” you sigh, reaching for his hand. He goes tense as you bring his hand to your lips and take a long draw. His gaze lingers a little longer than it should on your mouth. “In a month I’ll be married and the monotony will truly begin.” He hears you laugh but there’s no evidence of it in your face.<br/>
He is quiet, processing the conversation in peace while the two of you take turns smoking. The party rages on somewhere else in the palace; the room the two of you are in is completely devoid of people—servants and guests alike.<br/>
“So why are you here, then?” he asks eventually, “Just to drink and fuck your way into a stupor before you get confined to some manor in the middle of who-knows-where? Hm.” His tone is disapproving, perhaps even a bit dissatisfied.<br/>
“What’s the matter? Did I ruin my mystic?”<br/>
“No, I suppose you were transparent from the start.”<br/>
You frown a little; you’re not upset with him but you are a little let down by yourself. What were you trying to achieve here? What were you trying to feel?<br/>
“Well,” you say, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I guess it’s time to stop. I’ve had plenty of fun.”<br/>
He readjusts in the chair abruptly, staring you down. His brow is furrowed and he looks mildly annoyed. “Of  <i>course </i> you would say that. So many fools throw themselves to the hounds trying to understand what they want when everyone knows they’re just going to return home empty handed and comfortable in their ignorance. If you’re here to find something, then there’s nothing for you where you came from. Going back is a sign of defeat—rolling over and accepting death because you’re more at ease  <i>not knowing </i>.”<br/>
Your lips are pressed into a thin line as he speaks. He’s right, naturally.<br/>
“So you want me to, what? Stay?”<br/>
His face flushes a light red and he clears his throat, looking away. “ <i>I</i> don’t want you to do anything. I was only—,”<br/>
“It’s alright, no need to be embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural that you’ve fallen for me in this deeply taboo scenario.”<br/>
Jindosh stiffens and rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue in disdain. “Typical.”<br/>
“Is it typical for you? I’m sure lots of these people try to get to know you better. Do you let them?”<br/>
He is suddenly very uncomfortable being put on the spot like this. Pretending to readjust his sleeves, he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I don’t. I’m not opposed to . . . that sort of enjoyment. But despite what most people might tell you, I do have certain morals. And standards. You won’t find me mingling with the Duke’s… leftovers.”<br/>
You’re quiet for a beat, trying to drag up the courage to say what naturally comes next. You stare at his profile, weighing the risks, and ultimately decide that the rise was worth the potential fall. “. . .  <i>I </i> haven’t slept with the Duke.”<br/>
Heat rushes to his ears and he lets out a sharp laugh, completely taken aback. He wasn’t sure exactly how to approach this sudden change of events. You slide to put most of your weight on your thigh, facing him on the throne. “I’m not saying we  <i>should </i>,” you murmur, “But you were right. I’m here for . . . something. And though I’ve yet to discover it, I think this is the closet I’ve ever been.”<br/>
Jindosh swallows and looks away from you, staring hard at the shining marbled floor. He couldn’t, of course. He was above this sort of thing—meaningless sex with a stranger in a public place. If he hadn’t been drinking, he never would have given you the time of day. But he had. He could walk away right now and he’d suffer no consequences. You were no one compared to him. He would lose nothing either way.<br/>
But why should he have to deny himself things such as this while Luca whores around every night? Why should he have to take such delicate care of his reputation and self-preservation while the duke thoughtlessly did as he pleased with no deprecations whatsoever? Luca never deserved this throne. And if Kirin were the duke, he’d—<br/>
--he can’t stop himself from thinking it this time. He’s been repressing the anger all night. He deserved to be duke. He was more suited for the role in every conceivable way.<br/>
And yet this chair didn’t belong to him. A calm washes over him. He’s made a decision.<br/>
“Alright,” he says, resolutely, “I’m willing.”<br/>
Excitement flits through your stomach, reminding you of your younger days. You try desperately to hide your giddy smile as you sit up straight. “Really? W-well, I honestly didn’t expect you to agree so easily. I’m sure there’s an empty room somewhere—,”<br/>
“We’re in an empty room,” he states, gesturing to the desolate throne room. You’re briefly filled with confusion before a streak of anxiety rises within you.<br/>
A moment later, you find yourself on his lap, hands shaking as they hold his face to yours. His own hands were gently resting on the small of your back, pushing your weight into his own. It’s been a while since he’s had someone touch him so much and so closely. He had almost forgotten the intoxication of having someone’s teeth graze his neck, the soft kisses that come after the bite. He tugs at your blouse where it is tucked into your pants, wanting to feel warm skin on his hands. He’s delighted by how smooth it feels, the muscles moving as you gyrate your hips. Did he ever ask for your name?<br/>
You’re undoing his belt, moving quickly. Someone could walk in at any moment. You undo the button of his pants, lifting up on your knees to begin removing your own. You’re surprised by his hands on your hips, stopping you mid-action. Doubt flickers through your chest; did you already disappoint him?<br/>
“So eager,” he muses, reclining forward until his chin rests softly between your breasts. He looks up at you coyly, almost tauntingly, and runs his hands up your back, under your blouse, until he finds what he’s looking for, undoing the clasps in one depth turn of his wrist. All you can do is hover there, taken aback, and allow him to slide the straps off your shoulders until the article falls to his lap.<br/>
The individuals you’d been bedding throughout your time here had been so… quick. A fair few of the encounters had happened almost fully clothed. He runs his hands from the back to the front of your chest, earning an embarrassing gasp from you when he finds his prize. He’s surprisingly gentle, too, but not in a timid way. Every action he made was calculated and assessed. He was four steps ahead of you and it was surprisingly riveting to look into his eyes, knowing he’s thinking of what he would do to you in just a few seconds. And what lovely eyes, too, a soft green.<br/>
Lost in thought, you’re abruptly thrown back to reality as a sharp and not entirely unpleasant sensation accompanies his hands on your breasts. You toss your head back, bottom lip caught between your teeth to silence a mewl of pleasure as the Grand Inventor focuses on his work. Every twirl of his thumb sent your nerves into a frenzy. You were just beginning to feel heat pool between your legs when his hands slithered away, leaving you stunned and more than a bit flustered.<br/>
He undoes the button on your trousers, then the zipper, then tugs the clothing away quiet easily. You had people’s eyes on your body multiple times in the past week but this was different. This felt . . . almost like being photographed; his memory was certainly more robust than any other lover you’d taken.<br/>
With your shirt askew, he’s able to place a kiss onto your stomach, his moustache tickling the soft skin. He doesn’t even bother to pull your under garments down with your trousers, opting instead to simply move the fabric covering you to the side and exposing what he was after. You barely had time to calm down from the stimulation he’d just given you before he slides not one but two fingers inside of you with humiliating ease. “My, my,” he purrs, a chuckle beneath the words, “I thought I’d have my work cut out for me, but it seems you’re enjoying yourself after all.”<br/>
He continues to press messier and messier kiss around your hips and pelvic bones, nipping here and there and running his tongue over the skin he’d bitten. Meanwhile, his fingers are doing the impossible—or, at least, what you had previously deemed unlikely. Both of your hands are clutching the back of the throne as you try hard not to unravel right there on the spot. Even your own touches had never gotten this sort of a reaction out of you. Your legs are open as you straddle him and—devil that he is—he’s keeping them spread apart by force with both of his thighs, giving himself plenty of room to work. And, Outsider’s breath, he was toiling away.<br/>
He pulls his fingers out almost all the way, thumb working your clit in slow and achingly gentle circles, then he plunges them back in, arching them to hit different spots each time. You feel your thighs trembling; in fact, your whole body lurched every time you had to fight back the urge to orgasm. He simply wouldn’t stop—he wanted you to fall apart. What had you gotten yourself into?<br/>
The throne room felt so warm. Sweat beaded on the small of your back. Every touch felt slightly damp. Your hands threaded through his hair. You were so close. He pauses in his kisses to look up at you and examine his work. By the look on his face, he found the results quite satisfying. You couldn’t help yourself.<br/>
You kiss him—hard, perhaps roughly—shoving him back against the throne so firmly that you felt the chair slide a bit. He relents, giving into your demands, and kisses you back sloppily and hastily. Still, his fingers are moving inside of you even faster than before. He bites your lower lips and you feel yourself crumble down onto him like a house of cards. Your fingers clung to his dress shirt, face buried in his chest as you rode out the ecstasy.<br/>
He delighted in the way your walls were shuddering around his touch, found pride in how utterly ruined you were as you slumped against him. He certainly had been denying himself a specific and utterly needless form of enjoyment all these years. And there was another element too it as well; the throne had proven to be a very comfortable alter on which to perform this action.<br/>
As you catch your breath and recover, his hands slip down between the two of you and you hear the sound of his zipper. It’s not over yet, you hadn’t even made it to the main course. You feel him shuffle around briefly before something hard and warm settles against your stomach. Outsider’s eyes.<br/>
On wobbling knees, you lift yourself up and glance down briefly to judge exactly what you’re in for. You nearly swear under your breath; you should have known, given how tall he was. Burying your trepidations, you found your courage again and gingerly removed yourself from him, standing before kneeling in front of the throne.<br/>
Now this, he thought, was the way it should be. Luca’s way of life was . . . well, quite frankly, filthy. But he had to admit, the sight of you on your knees before him as he sat on the most coveted seat in Serkonos was, well, satisfying to say the least. As your hands rest gracefully on his hips and you rest your breasts on either side of his cock, he thought to himself, ‘This is the way it ought to b--,’<br/>
His thoughts are quickly whisked away from him as your lips slide around the tip of his erection, so incredibly warm and wet. It’s a rare occurrence for his mind to ever go completely and utterly blank—yet here he was, staring down at you with his jaw clenched and his eyes hooded, awaiting your next action.<br/>
Oh, that’s right. It had been a while since the last time he’d fucked. This might be a bit too much—<br/>
You expertly move your tongue in excruciatingly slow circles, mimicking the lovely torture he’d put you in just moments before. Against his will, his hips buck up and he curses his primitive desires. Such bodily functions were beneath him and yet he couldn’t help it. How annoying.<br/>
You move your lips from the tip, sliding downward along the side of his cock while your left hand follows along the other side. He sucks in a breath and holds it in a feeble attempt to steady himself. You perform this action three or four times before you return back to the top and, before he can stop you, you take all of him at once.<br/>
You feel a sense of pride in this moment, having worried about not being able to fit all of him at once. And, truthfully, you felt tears pricking in your eyes and your throat burned. But all the same, you were enjoying yourself.<br/>
Jindosh, on the other hand, was enjoying himself despite his best efforts. Dammit all, it felt so unbelievably superb. His head swims as all his thoughts seem to take a back seat to the sensation. If someone were to walk in the throne room at this moment, he wouldn’t have even noticed it.<br/>
You continue for some time, bobbing up and down, using your hand in rhythm with your mouth. His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and he pulls you down onto his cock until you nearly choke, the tears flowing freely. Yet you aren't in any pain. In fact, your free hand picks up where he left off between your legs.<br/>
All at once, his pulls your mouth away by the grip he has on your hair, tilting your head almost all the way back. Strings of saliva drip between your lips and his erection and he deliberately looks away, avoiding the urge to push himself back down your throat. Dazed, you try to study his expression. He almost seems angry—caught in that limbo between desire and primitive urgency. You’d seen a few times before, but never on a face like his.<br/>
He pulls you up by your hair, and you hiss at the pain as goosebumps run down your spine. He places you once more on either side of him, releasing you when he has you where he wants you. As you struggle to collect yourself, you feel the tell-tale sensation of a man positioning himself between your legs. He gives neither of you enough time to prepare before pulling you down onto him by the hips.<br/>
You can’t hold back the yelp of pain that slips past your lips. Your thighs tighten around him and you bury your face in his neck, trying to adjust to the burning and aching.<br/>
He lets out a breath, the smell of whisky washing over you, and you feel your muscles begin to relax.<br/>
“You feel positively divine,” he remarks in a whisper, his lips pressing against the curve of your ear. “A perfect fit, like gears sliding into place.”<br/>
At that, you can’t help but giggle quietly into his neck, nuzzling against him. “What an odd compliment.”<br/>
After the initial daze, you begin to rock yourself against him, moving up, then down, then back just a bit before repeating the process. Your pace is slow and cautious; you wanted this to last for as long as it could and the two of you were already so close to the edge. He returns to your breasts, this time with his lips, and you freely begin to moan as he leaves bruises and marks to remember him by. You wouldn’t soon forget the Grand Inventor. In fact, you were certain he’d be the one you laid awake at night thinking about as your husband—uninteresting, unintelligent, unoriginal— slumbered next to you. It suddenly filled you with something that replaced to arousal.<br/>
Passion.<br/>
You take his face into your hands, pulling him away from your chest. He looks up at you in a questioning way, tilting his head to the side. You simply look at him.<br/>
This might be the one and only time the two of you ever meet.<br/>
You kiss him again, with fervor this time. Each movement of your lips and your tongue were deliberate and earnest. Before long, his arms are around your middle and he’s hugging you to him as his hips come up to meet you with every thrust. This was different than fucking. It was the closest you’d ever get to making love.<br/>
He quickens his pace, leaving your bruised lips to rest his forehead against your collar bone. He continues to pull you down onto him, breathing hard, swearing occasionally. Your eyes are rolling back, your skin tingling all over, the room spinning. And just like that, you’re coming again, your entire body becoming once single bundle of nerves before crashing again. He, too, has reached his limit and he empties himself inside you with a groan, unable to stop himself in time. You’d been denying the duke’s court this exact pleasure—requesting, nay, demanding that they find the power within themselves to pull away at this precise moment. But here, oddly, all you can do is cradle his head in your arms, petting his hair down gently and affectionately. It takes him some time to come back to his senses; when he does pull out of you, he hisses at the sensitivity. Drops fall to the velvety cushion of the throne, staining it permanently. Kirin is highly satisfied when he takes notice of it.<br/>
As the two of you unwrap yourselves from one another and hastily get dressed again, there are no words. Jindosh is rather proud of himself for what he had accomplished this afternoon—Luca would never know it was him and Kirin could go to his grave chuckling at the memory. And you? You felt satisfied in a way you never knew you were lacking.<br/>
Looking equally disheveled and gratified, the two of you parted ways. Jindosh places a kiss on the back of your hand and exits toward the garden, feeling emboldened enough to simply leave without announcing his departure. You return to the party, a smile on your face, removing the engagement ring from your finger and dropping it into one of the many elaborate and sparkling crystal fountains.<br/>
You had decided to stay in Karnaca. There were more things for you to experience after all, it would seem.</p>
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